Silence
by hanuka
Summary: This is a rewrite of my first story posted on this site. Helen Clyde reflects on some things such as her relationship with Tommy, his relationship with Barbara, and her experiences with loss. Rated K. Please review and leave only constructive criticism.


Helen Clyde tried to extend her sleep for a couple of minutes. Lately she had found herself waking up earlier and earlier. First she had started waking up at eight, then 7:30, then 6. It was now one o'clock in the morning. She squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to remember her breathing techniques. She counted out loud "One" as she breathed in "Two" as she breathed out. It wasn't working. The breathing just seemed to make her even more aware of how awake she was. Helen opened her eyes, sat up in bed, and looked around the room. She involuntarily brought the duvet around her body. The house was old and sometimes she could feel the wind going through the house. The bed was barely warmed by her body heat. She looked around the room; her eyes rested on her nightstand. There was an empty mug, a small lamp that depicted Dutch maidens picking up hay, and the book she had been reading before she went to bed. The book was called _Bonsai - _a tiny novella by an Argentinian writer. Helen hadn't decided if she liked the book yet. The author disclosed the ending at the beginning. It was an odd way to start out a book to say the least. So far, Helen could say that she disliked the beginning because it lacked a mystery and clues leading to the solving of the mystery.

Eventually, Helen stopped thinking about the book; the long process around this didn't help her sleep. She swung her legs over the bed and when her feet landed on the floor, she shivered. _Well now that I'm awake I guess I'll eat something. _As she walked into the hallway she looked up and down the hall. Four doors down across from her room was her cousin's room. She walked in the direction of her room. The door was open. She peeked in. There were two pairs of feet wrapped around each other. The parts that peeked out from under the quilts were illuminated by the moonlight. They looked like beacons of light in the otherwise dark room. Helen decided not to linger and she walked on her tiptoes all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. In the kitchen there was the soft hum of the different appliances. As Helen came into the kitchen, the washer beeped to signal that it was done. She opened up the dishwasher a couple of inches so that it would stop beeping. She went to the cupboard and got out a glass. She pulled a milk bottle from the refrigerator and poured milk into the glass.

Her hand moved to her belly she ran her hand over the flat plain of skin. She was so used to feeling a small life in there. '_Odd',_ she thought '_There was a life there. A life_ _that had potential for something. The potential for what exactly? How do you classify that potential?' _ It was something she would never figure out. Even when she was pregnant, she wasn't sure if she wanted children. She didn't know if she could be a good mother. When she was still in college, she had read about Donald Winnicott's ideas about the "Good-enough mother" which was a mother who tried to demonstrate to her child that she was an individual but also that she was imperfect. The thought behind this was that children are harmed if the mother tries to be completely devoted to her child. She couldn't see herself being blindly devoted to her child; she couldn't imagine herself interacting with any sort of child.

She wondered about what kind of father her husband would have been. He seemed to have been genuinely happy to be a father and genuinely sad when the child couldn't be saved. But he did seem to be very devoted to Barbara Havers, his partner. The conversations between Helen and Tommy would often drift to Barbara or their cases together. He worked late with her. She wondered what happened when they went on cases where they had to travel. She couldn't find the physical traces of an affair. All she sensed was a mutual attraction or a close connection. He couldn't see the attraction. She could be nice and friendly enough. But he said she was really quite frumpy and not easy on the eyes. If she came to visit and they talked about a case, Helen sometimes heard them arguing with each other. They were not good at hiding it. Sometimes they sounded like little kids arguing but the majority of the time they sounded like lovers fighting. It wasn't evidence, but it added to Helen's suspicions. It was during those arguments that she wondered '_Do they even realize what they sound like? Are they even aware of who's present?' _It seemed almost shameless the way they acted like they were unaware. She wondered if Tommy ever thought about her. She wondered if he ever worried about her. Her own feelings towards him were even less clear in the aftermath of what had happened. She didn't feel ready to leave him, it was an impulse decision. After she had left he had suggested counseling. Not counseling for dysfunctional couples but counseling for bereaved parents. They went to counseling even though it felt half-hearted. Who wanted to talk about a dead child? It was a child that neither of them had a chance to know really. So what was the point of talking about someone they didn't really know? The counselor had said to them

"You've both lost a child; it is not a one-sided situation. You need to support each other. Now is not the type to blame the other partner. What is happening now is that you are both grieving. You both need to talk to each other about what you are feeling and how you want to proceed."

They lasted about two sessions after that. Helen had moved some of her things out of their house and she moved in with her sister. Her sister had never been one to ask questions, especially questions about an impending divorce her; sister knew divorce very well. There's really no need to talk if you've experienced the same things. But her sister's house was noisy and full of children. She sometimes found herself looking at children of various ages and wondering about them. She wondered what they were thinking, what worried them, what they thought of their parents. She didn't burst into tears when she saw them she just observed them until she didn't want to observe them anymore. When she was done watching them she moved on.

Helen drank some of the milk. _I am thirty-one. I had imagined that many things would go differently. What am I going to do now? _She drank the rest of her milk slowly. She gave up any hope of finding sleep. There were too many things going on in her head. She straightened her spine, closed her eyes, and then rolled her spine a little bit. She listened for sound, any sort of sound. After a time she gave up looking for any sounds and instead embraced the silence.

_I think I'll go to town tomorrow._

She went back to bed and focused on the day ahead.


End file.
